“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Sam swore. She laughed, that trumpeting laugh of hers, and he grinned, his heart light. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen?”
“I saw a crocodile that had caught a small shark once,” Penelope said. “I was in the Kimberley doing some work experience while I was at university and the crocodile dragged it to shore to eat.”
He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That must have been a sight.”
“I’ll have to show you my photos sometime.”
“Sounds great. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
Silence.
He glanced at her and wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended by the complete surprise on her face. “The brewery does a good pizza,” he continued, hoping the casualness of the offer would relax her.
“I don’t know,” Penelope said. “We work together.”
“Not really,” he said.
“Others might think I’m favouring you.”
He laughed. “What, by suspending my licence?”
“Or that you’re trying to make me change my mind.” She ducked her head.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t think you will. You’ve made your decision and I respect that. It’s just two people sharing a meal and photos of interesting things they’ve seen. I can bring some photos of my own if you like.”
She hesitated. “Can I wait until after the dive tomorrow to decide?”
He wanted a yes. He didn’t want to wait. “What would Ceiveon say?”
She sighed. “I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?”
“I’ll only use it when I really want something.”
“Why do you really want to go to dinner with me?”
“Because I find you fascinating, and I want to spend more time with you.”
She screwed up her nose. “You like the stickler for the rules who won’t bend?”
He took a moment to decide how to word his reply. “I like the woman with the loud laugh and sense of humour,” he said. “I have an army buddy who was very much a by-the-book kind of guy, and it took a while to get him to open up.”
“And now he’s the life of the party?”
“Not so much. He lost part of his leg during his last mission and is still recovering.”
“I’m sorry.”
All at once, he wanted to talk to someone about Sherlock. “I’m doing my best to get through to him, but he doesn’t want to talk. The army was his life.”
“Does he blame himself for the accident?”
That had never occurred to him. “I don’t know.”
“It’s always harder to recover from something when it’s your fault.” The words were whispered.
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, making a mental note to ask Dobby for the report on Sherlock’s accident.
“Yes.”
